


Mine

by goldensnitch18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marriage Law Challenge, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensnitch18/pseuds/goldensnitch18
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are perfectly … sort of ... mostly happy keeping their relationship in the dark. When the Minister asks Harry to become the poster child for the new Marriage Law that will save the Wizarding World, that all changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Love: What would I do without you oblivion.baby? Well for one … there wouldn’t be the steamy bit of smut in the middle of this. You all owe her big time. All my love to you dear. Xoxo
> 
> This story was written for the Quills & Parchment Marriage Law One Shot Competition. It won the Judge’s Honorable Mention, Best Character Development, Best Smut, and was Runner Up for Best Romance. Thank you so much to those of you who voted and loved this story.

Harry couldn’t fucking think straight with Draco’s perfect mouth about him. His fists clenched sheets, and his hips thrust forward, wanting  _ more, fuck, more  _ of the wet slick heat of Draco’s tongue as it wrapped around him. “Please,” he moaned as his mind reeled around, struggling to focus on one thought. He no longer cared that he was supposed to be meeting with Kingsley in ten minutes. He tried to tell Draco as he had pushed him down on the bed, to insist that he couldn’t be late again as he bit his way up Harry’s thigh, but there was no point. The blonde man hadn’t fucking listened, because he never bloody listened. He did whatever he liked, and if Harry didn’t love it so damn much, he would have been very annoyed. 

 

“Unh…” he let out an incredibly unbecoming noise as Draco’s hand joined his mouth, pulling at him with quick strokes that timed perfectly with his mouth bobbing up and down on him. Harry made the stupid mistake of looking down at the perfect sight below. Draco’s eyes locked on his own as he smirked around the rigid hardness in his mouth, his lips wet and slick as they worked. It was no good. Harry groaned and fell back against the pillow. He felt his pleasure peak and ripple throughout his body as he spilled into Draco’s mouth.

 

“You fucking wanker,” he insisted, as Draco kissed his way up his glistening chest. 

 

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Draco insisted before he kissed Harry hard on the mouth. 

 

“I told you in the bloody shower, I needed to go.” Harry shoved him back, pushing hard on his chest, and Draco laughed. They both knew his anger wasn’t real. It could never be real, not about this.

 

“I didn’t think it was fair,” the blonde man explained. He stretched out on Harry’s bed, his naked body tempting Harry back as he tried to locate his clothes for the second time that morning. “You were so thorough in there. I was simply returning the favor.” 

 

“You could have returned the favor after I got home from work,” Harry insisted. He’d found his trousers and was fumbling with the zipper on them. 

 

“I can’t tonight. My parents are having me for dinner,” Draco said, all humor lost from his voice.

 

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy remained a mystery to him, one that he was never quite sure he would solve. 

 

“Do you want me to come over after?” Draco asked as he watched Harry pull the sleeves of his shirt on. 

 

“Of course,” Harry said, beginning to close buttons. It had been eight months. Eight months since they had been drunk at Ginny’s wedding, and Harry had decided to take a risk that had paid off with dividends. 

 

Ginny had known about Harry. She was the first one to figure it out. After the war, they had dated for nearly a year before they had tried to have sex, and it was wrong. Everything about it didn’t make sense. It was hard, and weird, and neither of them were really satisfied after. She’d whispered it to him while they were still wrapped around each other in the bed, her head on his shoulder. She hadn’t even sounded surprised when he had confirmed what she suspected. He hadn’t been sure before, but after their failed attempt at making love, there was no more denying it. He loved Ginny, he always would, but she had never made him feel in that entire year the way Draco could make him feel in a single minute. 

 

Ginny had started seeing Neville not long after they had broken up, and three years later, she married him. Neville, Hermione, and Draco had all completed their eighth year at Hogwarts together. Hermione and Neville were there by choice, while Draco’s presence had been mandated by the Wizengamot in the terms of his parole. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the three of them that year, but somehow at the end of it, Draco was no longer an enemy. Hermione and Neville had began inviting him to small gatherings which he, surprisingly, had attended. He had slowly, hesitantly, over the last three years formed tenuous friendships with each of them, even Ron, though that one had taken longer than the others. 

 

Harry would never admit it to anyone, but the pull towards Draco had surfaced in those fumbling moments when they were trying to get to know each other again. There were so many times when he was sure that Hermione was crazy, and Draco Malfoy could not possibly be redeemed, but he was proven wrong again and again. As they fought their way through forgiveness and patience, a slow burn of attraction began without him realizing it. By the time the wedding had come around, Draco was the star of nearly all of his early morning shower fantasies. These fantasies were fueled by the fact that Draco showed a serious lack of interest in women and had not dated since they had left Hogwarts. 

 

Ginny and Neville had seated Draco with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the wedding. Ron and Hermione had spent the evening dancing, talking to friends, and being in love. They had been happily dating since the war, and neither one of them seemed to be in a hurry to settle down. In fact, Neville was the first person from their year at Hogwarts that any of them knew to have married.  Harry had spent the evening getting shitfaced with Draco. They had left the wedding late, both of them stumbling to the Floo. They were supposed to go their separate ways, but Draco’s arm was around his shoulder, and Harry was overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. It drove Harry crazy. Too many times, he had closed his eyes and imagined that scent surrounding him as Draco was naked above him. In that moment, outside the Floo, he made a split second decision. They were both so drunk - both so far gone - that Harry knew he could play it off later if it went badly. He wasn’t sure that he would ever get this chance again to find out if the attraction was mutual with the aid of champagne and firewhisky to blame in the aftermath. 

 

Harry had turned his head to Draco’s. The other man was saying something crass about what Neville was going to be doing to Ginny tonight, and Harry had spun his body in front of him. Draco’s arm followed, pulling him closer, the move entirely unconscious, to his surprise. There was a single moment where Harry saw the shock on Draco’s face, and then their lips were touching, and he lost all sense of anything beyond them. Draco stumbled forward until Harry’s back hit hard stone, and then his lips were moving against Harry’s. The heat and urgency that followed was so much more than Harry’s fairly inexperienced mind had ever imagined. That first kiss had tasted strongly of frosting and firewhisky, and Harry could still remember the way Draco’s fingers had dug into his arm as if he needed Harry to hold him to the earth. Harry had been lost in him, in the sensation of his mouth and the feel of him hardening against his leg, when Draco had pulled back just enough to ask, “Your place?”

 

Now, they were nearly living together. Draco kept the flat he had bought after he had left Hogwarts, of course, but he stayed at Harry’s more often than not, and they avoided discussions of where this was going, or what they were doing. Draco had made it clear that his parents would not be okay with their relationship. It wasn’t that the Malfoys would necessarily care that Harry was a man, or that he was Harry, but it was imperative to them that Draco continue on the Malfoy bloodline. Draco carrying on a relationship with another man didn’t fit into that plan. The one and only time Harry had brought up the idea of going public, Draco made a point of ending the conversation quickly. Their friends knew. Harry was sure they did, but not one of them had ever mentioned it. It was as if they had all come to some silent agreement that the relationship brewing between Harry and Draco was off limits until one of the two involved parties brought it up. 

 

Having finished dressing, Harry grabbed his abandoned robes and moved over to kiss Draco again. “See you tonight,” he told him and reached for his wand on the table next to the bed before he pushed it into his pocket. 

 

“Love you,” Draco replied. As Harry left the room, he finally moved to get out of bed. 

 

XXX

 

Harry arrived late to his appointment, of course. Kingsley’s assistant glared at him over half moon glasses. The woman reminded him eerily of Minerva McGonagall, and he was always struck with the impression that she may attempt to give him detention. 

 

“Auror Potter, the Minister is waiting for you,” she told him, her mouth tight even as she spoke. 

 

“Yes, so sorry,” Harry said, walking swiftly past her and into the office before closing the door. 

 

Kingsley was sitting behind the Minister’s desk. He appeared haggard and worn as he looked up from a stack of files. He smiled wearily. “Harry.”

 

“Morning, Minister. Sorry I’m a bit late,” Harry apologized as he tried not to let his thoughts dwell on the reason he had been running behind. 

 

“No trouble. I had plenty to do while I waited. Have a seat.” Harry crossed the room and fell into one of the two chairs in front of the Minister’s desk. “So, what did you need to talk to me about.” 

 

“Well, I was rather hoping you might do me a favor, actually,” Kingsley told him, his expression sheepish. The older man was not himself today, that much was clear. Kingsley was usually firm and confident. 

 

“Okay,” Harry replied, uneasy. He didn’t like the way Kingsley was shuffling through the papers on his desk, as if searching for something to distract him from the favor he was going to ask. 

 

“There is an old law we have been considering resurrecting for a while now, and we were hoping you might be of some assistance.” 

 

“Okay,” Harry said, growing more unsure with each moment. This was beginning to remind him of conversations with past Ministers that he would just as soon forget. 

 

“It’s highly unusual. I hope that you will hear me out before you decide.”

 

“Yes, of course.” 

 

“We’ve been experiencing some population issues in recent years.” He met Harry’s eyes, and the younger man saw the seriousness of his words in the deep concern that stared openly back at him. “Minerva is owling me, more and more urgently, that we need to do something about it.” 

 

“Okay.” Harry was unsure what role he could have in helping with population issues. He wasn’t even sure exactly what population issues entailed. 

 

“The recent war didn’t help. Marriage rates are lower than they have been in decades, but the problem really has roots in the first war. People stopped having as many children and there have been far fewer marriages than we have seen in past generations, and the casualties, well, we never really recovered,” Kingsley explained. 

 

“So, what do we do?” Harry asked. Under normal circumstances, he would be eager to help, but the Minister’s odd behavior had him on edge.

 

“Like I said, there is an old law. It hasn’t been used in over a hundred years.”

 

“What is it?” 

 

“It gives the Ministry the power to …” Kingsley sighed deeply, looked down at his work again, and then back up at Harry. “Gives us the power to mandate marriages.” 

 

“What?” Harry asked, his expression blank, his mind reeling, trying to understand how such a thing could be possible. 

 

“It requires that any witch or wizard, of a certain age enter into a binding marriage.” Kingsley watched him closely as he spoke. 

 

“That’s ludicrous,” Harry spat. 

 

“I know it seems desperate, but we’ve no other options. Less than twenty students are going to be eligible for Hogwarts from this year.” 

 

“Less than twenty?” Harry asked, suddenly horrified. He had known numbers were down. He did read the Prophet. There had been mentions of the issue, but no one had really thought it was a serious problem. 

 

“We have nineteen on the list. Usually one to three names will disappear by the time they are eleven. Things happen.” Kingsley told him. Harry tried not to think about what  _ things  _ meant.

 

“Well,” Harry began, trying to recover from his shock. “It could just be a bad year,” he insisted. He was still not ready to admit that such a drastic move would be necessary. 

 

“The numbers have been dwindling at a rapid rate. We expect that it will just continue to lesson if we do not intercede. The law has conditions about children-” 

 

“Intercede? These are people’s lives. You can’t control them this way. Children are not commodities.” Harry was practically shouting now, and Kingsley had the good sense to look ashamed.

 

“We can,” Kingsley informed him. “Each eligible person will be given the choice to marry whoever they like, or we have a spell-” 

 

“A spell? How can a spell determine the person you should spend your entire life with?” Harry demanded.  

 

“It works. I swear to you, Harry,” Kingsley pleaded, clearly trying to make him understand. “It’s actually quite successful at determining good pairings for bearing children.” 

 

“You have a spell that determines the best person for someone to breed with? And you want me involved in this?” Harry asked, suddenly remembering why he was here. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that he knew exactly what the Minister was after. 

 

“I want you to be our first match,” Kingsley explained as if he was asking Harry to do something completely logical and ordinary. 

 

“No,” Harry said firmly. 

 

“I know this is a shock, but if you would just let us do the spell-” 

 

“No,” Harry said again. “I’m already with someone.” His mind began to race as he tried to determine what in the world would happen with him and Draco if this actually happened. How would they survive being married off to other people? To women? Would the Minister really try to separate them if he knew? Surely not. Kingsley was a good man, nearly a friend. Harry had been pleased with his leadership as Minister for Magic, at least, before today.   

 

“Well, then, that would make it easier.” Kingsley said, visibly relieved. “As long as she agrees, of course.” 

 

“ _ He _ isn’t a woman, Kingsley,” Harry said flatly and watched the Minister’s eyes grow wide as he processed what Harry was telling him. 

 

“Oh. I-I had no idea,” the Minister sputtered, attempting to collect himself. 

 

“I know,” Harry told him. “No one does.”  

 

“Well.” Harry could nearly see the thoughts spinning in Kingsley’s brain. “Surely we could make this work out some how. Who is it?” 

 

“Who is my boyfriend?” Harry asked, his anger boiling once again. How in the world could they make this work out some how? He was fairly sure that he and Draco would still not be able to have any children, marriage law or not, and any other solution was not going to be working it out. 

 

“Yes,” Kingsley confirmed.  

 

“I’m not telling you that,” Harry insisted.

 

“Look, Harry, we could really -” 

 

“No. This is beyond bloody fucked up, Kingsley.” Harry still couldn’t really believe that the Minister was serious about this law, or that he had just told the Minister he was dating a man, and, despite this hiccup in the plan, he was still intent on finding some way to make Harry the marriage law poster child. 

 

“If you do this, I will exempt him from marrying,” Kingsley told Harry, his tone desperate.

 

“What?” Harry asked, uncertain that he was understanding and shocked that, if he  _ was _ understanding, Draco’s freedom was being offered as some sort of consolation prize for behaving. This entire meeting seemed like a nightmare. He wished that Draco would wake him as he always did with a hand on his chest and lips to his ear, whispering that he was safe. The nightmares still happened more than he liked, but it was bearable now with Draco there when he awoke. It hurt less than it had in the years before when he would wake in a sweat, alone and terrified. 

 

“Look, Harry, this plan has already very quietly made it through the Wizengamot. This law is getting resurrected. It’s happening.” Kingsley sounded sorry for what he was saying, but Harry didn’t care how sorry the man was at the moment. This request went beyond anything even Fudge or Scrimgeour had asked of him. “If you play along, let us match you, I will pardon your boyfriend. I will make sure he doesn’t have to marry. The two of you can continue to-” 

 

Harry stood quickly, causing the chair to slam down to the ground with a loud bang. “Continue to hide and live in secret for the rest of my life? No. Not for you. Not for anyone.” Harry spun, his steps deliberate as he headed for the door and ignored Kingsley calling him back.

 

XXX

 

“Can they do this?” Harry asked, still fuming. Hermione was staring back at him, her jaw open, her eyes blazed, mirroring the inferno of injustice that he felt in his own stomach. 

 

“Of course not!” Hermione snapped loudly, as if it was Harry that had suggested that they return to the practice of forcing people to marry each other to breed more magical children for Hogwarts to teach. “What the hell kind of …” 

 

“Have you ever heard of this before?” Harry asked as she trailed off, shaking her head. 

 

“Yes, I have,” she said, disgust laced her words. “I’ve come across it a few times in research.” She pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth as she stared at her office window, searching for something Harry couldn’t see. A few minutes later, she breathed out a heavy sigh and returned her eyes to his. “Harry, this law hasn’t been enforced for over a hundred years.” 

 

“So, you think we can fight it?” he asked as hope began to bubbled under the anger. 

 

“We can try. This is a gross abuse of power. They can’t honestly think everyone is going to be okay with this?” she asked him, sounding desperate. He wasn’t sure what she wanted. Perhaps she thought that he would suddenly tell her that he was just kidding, that the meeting he had just finished with the Minister was an elaborate joke. He wished that it was.  

 

“That is why they need me to tell them all to get on with it and throw their freedom down the drain,” he agreed.

 

“Haven’t you given them enough? Merlin.” Hermione drummed her fingers against the top of her desk. 

 

“Apparently not.” Harry frowned back at her. 

 

“Have you talked to Draco about this?” she asked, avoiding his eyes. It was the first time she had given him any sort of open indication that she knew there was something more between him and their blonde friend. Normally, he would probably pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but the time for pretending and hiding was gone. 

 

“No,” Harry told her, “I haven’t seen him yet.” 

 

“They can’t do this to you,” Hermione insisted, and he appreciated the indignation in her voice more than he could say. 

 

“I know. I … I can’t lose him, Hermione,” Harry spoke softly, knowing that he was crossing a line that he and Draco had silently agreed they wouldn’t cross anytime soon. 

 

“I know. I know. I mean, it isn’t the same, but it isn’t like Ron and I haven’t talked about marriage, but we aren’t ready yet.” The look on her face made it clear that Hermione was telling the truth. “And, children. Can you imagine, Harry? Being responsible for another human being? I still want so many things before we even think about children.” 

 

Harry shuddered. It wasn’t that he had anything against children, but he had just started to figure out how to take care of himself. He had no idea how he would handle being responsible for an entire other life. He wasn’t even sure that he had the ability to be a good father. It wasn’t as if he had the best role model in Vernon Dursley. “You’ll look into it for me?” 

 

“Of course. I’ll start right away,” she promised. 

 

XXX

 

Two days later, Harry and Draco were standing in the kitchen, their bodies leaned against opposite counters, both looking tense and frustrated. 

 

“I can’t sign my life away to some woman I don’t give a bloody shit about,” Harry insisted. They were arguing, again. They had been going back and forth about the law nonstop since his meeting with Kingsley. It wasn’t that Draco was for it, but it seemed that he wasn’t exactly against it either, and that made Harry even more furious. 

 

“You aren’t signing your life away,” Draco protested. “It’s ten years or two children.” Kingsley had sent a copy of the law over for Harry, and Draco, to look over. The terms were long and complicated, but it basically boiled down to having two children or ten years of marriage, whichever came first. 

 

“How can you say that? We would never be anything more than this. No, we would be less than this. We would be stolen weekends and hiding for the rest of our lives.” Harry motioned around the kitchen with his hand as he spoke. It was their prison, this place. This was where they hid who they really were. Out there, in the real world, they were two bachelors who weren’t in any rush to get into anything. In here, they lived their real lives, locked away where no one would ever see them. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his chest tightening as his greatest fear passed through his lips. 

 

“He said this is mandatory. I’m not sure we have any choice,” Draco said softly. Harry wanted to believe that Draco was only trying to placate him, or make the best of this situation, but it was hard when he was so bloody calm about it. 

 

“Of course we have a fucking-” He stopped talking as they both heard a knock on the door. “I’ll be right back,” Harry sighed. He walked quickly through the house, his mind full of thoughts of Draco. He seemed to have taken this whole thing in stride, as just another way the Ministry could control their lives, while Harry had fought to explain that this was unacceptable. 

 

As he reached the door, Harry pulled it open, expecting one of his friends and instead found himself face to face with Kingsley. It was dark, but he could see the Minister’s face in the soft light of the street lamps. “Can I talk to you?” 

 

“I don’t have anything to say,” Harry told him. 

 

“I have an idea,” Kingsley said.  

 

Harry felt a hand on the small of his back. It pressed into him gently. “Come in,” Draco said.

 

“I thought this might be the case,” Kingsley told them, his eyes full of sorrow as he walked into the house. 

 

“Do you want some tea?” Draco offered as Harry shut the door. 

 

“Now we’re giving him tea for ruining our lives,” Harry said softly as the trio made their way back to the kitchen. 

 

“I’m trying my best, Harry,” Kingsley assured him.

 

“No. Your best is not this. This is wrong. This is not what I fought for.” Harry leaned back against the counter. He watched Draco wave his wand, making the Minister a cup of tea. It landed on the counter beside Kingsley. 

 

“What did you need to talk about, Minister?” Draco asked. He moved to stand next to Harry. His hand moved back to the small of Harry’s back. Harry frowned over at him, still angry.  

 

“I have a new offer,” Kingsley told them, sipping at the drink. 

 

“Okay,” Draco encouraged him to continue as Harry crossed his arms. 

 

“We would find a witch that finds a marriage to you mutually beneficial. The ministry will swear her to secrecy, and the two of you use Muggle medical advances for pregnancies. You and Draco still get to be together.” Kingsley’s voice was quiet, but not as hesitant as it had been just two days ago.

 

“In secret.” Harry’s voice cut through the room. “We still get to be each other’s dirty little secret. I can never tell anyone how I feel about him.” He felt Draco’s hand slide around his side to pull him closer. He simultaneously wanted to be near to his lover and push him away. 

 

“Yes,” Kingsley agree. “We will award you a divorce when two children are born or after ten years.”  

 

“And Draco?” Harry asked. 

 

“I told you. I will exempt him,” the Minister promised.  

 

Draco cleared his throat, and Harry turned to face him. “Instead of the exemption, could you give me the same offer of being able to use Muggle methods for pregnancy?” Draco asked, his voice quiet and steady, his eyes focused on Kingsley, pointedly avoiding Harry. 

 

“What?” Harry demanded, turning towards him. 

 

“Yes,” Kingsley said quickly without a moment of consideration. “If Harry agrees to help us, we will make you the same arrangement.” 

 

“My parents want me to continue the line,” Draco told Harry. “You know that.”  

 

Harry slammed his fist against the counter as he shouted, “Fuck your parents!” Draco flinched, but held his ground. 

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” he told Harry, finally meeting his gaze.  

 

“Because mine are dead, and now they get to take you from me?” Harry hated that Kingsley was across the kitchen, sipping at tea, while he and Draco discussed their lives crumbling around them. 

 

“They aren’t taking anything,” Draco said quietly. “Nothing will change.” 

 

“Exactly. I want things to change, Draco.” He had wanted things to change for months, since the first time they had admitted how they really felt. Draco had worked late and Flooed over after Harry was already in bed. He had stripped down to his pants while standing next to the bed and climbed beneath the sheets. His body had lined up perfectly behind Harry’s, and their hands found each other. Their fingers locked, and Harry had whispered, “I missed you.” 

 

Draco’s lips had kissed the tender spot beneath his ear, and he had muttered, “I love you.” It had been dark and quiet and entirely unexpected. 

 

Harry had turned, unable to get his eyes on his boyfriend quick enough. “I love you, too.” Draco had pulled him down, kissing him softly, and he had been certain in that moment that Draco was it for him. There wasn’t going to be anyone else. 

 

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, pulling him out of his memories. 

 

“I want you out there,” Harry insisted, pointing towards the front door. “I want people to know that you are mine, that I love you.” 

 

Draco’s face fell. He reached forward, but Harry flinched away from his hand. “That isn’t possible. I told you.” 

 

“Are you just going to let him live the rest of your life for you? He destroyed you. He did this to you.” Harry grabbed Draco’s left forearm, his fingers digging deep into the scarred remains of the black tattoo that would never entirely go away. 

 

“He’s still my father,” Draco said, his voice low and unsteady, yanking his arm back.   

 

“He doesn’t deserve one ounce of the respect you give him,” Harry fought back, refusing to back down. This was one of those things they never talked about, but it seemed like if the world was going to fall down around them anyway, he might as well get to destroy some of the things he hated about it in the process.  

 

“That isn’t true,” Draco fumed. 

 

“It is if he can’t accept who you really are,” Harry countered, “who we are.” 

 

“Go. Now,” Draco demanded, turning his attention back to Kingsley and his empty cup. 

 

The Minister nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” 

 

Once he had gone and they heard the front door shut behind him, Draco finally returned his gaze to Harry’s. “I have nothing else to offer you, Harry.” He moved forward again, his fingers danced tender whispers up Harry’s shoulder to his neck before he leaned in to kiss him. Harry greedily responded, pulling him in close as if he could hold him there forever. Even though he was angry, he couldn’t really push Draco away knowing that soon these moments may be few and far between. “I love you, but he’s my father, and I love him, too,” Draco whispered against his mouth.

 

“Please don’t do this, Draco,” Harry pleaded, as if they had a choice. 

 

“We have to. This way is better than the alternative. Please don’t take away the only good thing I’ve ever had.” His fingers were locked in Harry’s hair as their bodies melded together.

 

“Hermione is still looking into it,” Harry told him. “She will find a way around this.” Harry could tell from the way Draco’s mouth curved down that he had little faith in Hermione finding a way out of this one. He was sure that if the Minister was telling them about it, then it was all but settled, and they had better get on with making the best of it. Harry couldn’t accept that. He just couldn’t. 

 

XXX

 

Two weeks later, Hermione was sitting at Harry’s kitchen table as tears rolled down her cheeks from bloodshot eyes. “I’ve looked into everything.” Harry knew she hadn’t been sleeping, or eating, because Ron had been mental about it at lunch that day. Harry had owled her as soon as he had returned to his office to tell her they needed to talk. 

 

“I know,” Harry moved his hand over hers. She hadn’t found anything, not a single loophole or weakness in the law. 

 

“This is so wrong,” she choked on a sob as her shoulders shook. 

 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he moved closer to her, the legs of his chair scratching loudly against the tile floor. 

 

“No, it isn’t.” She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “They are going to get away with this. They are going to force people to get married and have children.”

 

“I know.” Harry tried to comfort her. “I know.” Hermione’s arms reached around him, and Harry pulled her in tighter as she continued to cry. He held her there for a long while as despair flowed through him. She had been his last hope, and now that was gone. If anyone could fight the Ministry, it was Hermione, but it seemed that this time, there was nothing to be done.

 

After she had stopped shaking, Hermione pulled back from her best friend to wipe at her face. Harry pulled away strands of her hair that were stuck in wet tear tracks. “Ron says we should just elope. Avoid the mess, not let them use us to get other people to go quietly.” 

 

“Like I’m going to, you mean?” he asked. He knew the question wasn’t really fair, but he wasn’t feeling much of anything right now. He was going to have to get married - to a woman. It was wrong, surely, but he couldn’t find the spare empathy to lend Ron and Hermione for being forced to push their wedding up a few years when he would be spending the next several years of his own life pretending that he wasn’t counting down the minutes until he could get back to just being with Draco. 

 

“We both know that isn’t what you want,” Hermione said quietly as she laced their fingers together. 

 

“I don’t. Sometimes I feel like Draco is glad that this happened,” he admitted, letting the thought escape his mouth for the first time. It had been plaguing him from the moment Draco had asked the Minister if he could have the same offer. 

 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

 

“He gets the pretend life his father wants for him. A wife - children - respectable and proper. Kingsley will probably even find him a pureblood.” Harry struggled to find the words for the rest of his thoughts. He didn’t want to voice them aloud. Part of him felt to say them would make them all too real. “And, I-I stay in the dark. He doesn’t have to admit that … that I …” 

 

“Oh, Harry, Draco loves you. I know he does. I’ve known for months. Anyone with half a brain sees the way he looks at you,” Hermione assured him. 

 

“I don't think he doesn’t love me, but what if he doesn’t love me enough to ever tell anyone?” Harry asked, the questions stirring a deep ache in his chest. 

 

“I don’t think that’s true. Give him some time,” Hermione urged him. 

 

“I don’t have to,” Harry told her bitterly. “The Ministry is giving him plenty of time.” 

 

XXX

 

Harry rifled through his drawer and grabbed out a pair of pants. He pulled them on as Draco stared on, watching his every move. They had been at the Ministry late, talking with Kingsley and meeting their future partners. Harry would be marrying Romilda Vane, and Draco had been paired with Astoria Greengrass. Both women seemed oddly pleasant and content with the loveless matches that would result in their husbands continuing to have a relationship behind their backs. 

 

Harry knew Romilda’s reasoning for agreeing to the plan. She had been after his public image when he was only sixteen years old and rumored to be the chosen one. Now that the rumors had proven to be true and he was climbing through the Auror department, it seemed that she was all too eager to be Mrs. Potter, even if it was only for a sham of a marriage. 

 

Astoria, on the other hand, had seemed quiet, polite, and kind. She was nothing like the pureblood Slytherin women that Harry had grown up with. Her older sister Daphne and best friend Pansy had always struck him as cruel and vapid, but that didn’t seem to be the case with the youngest Greengrass. “Why do you think Astoria is doing this?” Harry asked as he moved towards the bed. 

 

Draco rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he sighed heavily. “It’s a good match for her. Her parents actually tried to arrange something for us a couple years ago. I turned it down.” 

 

“You almost had an arranged marriage?” Harry asked, suddenly stunned that this had never come up. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that arranged marriages still existed between the old houses. After all, was that really any different than what the Ministry was doing to them now? 

 

“Not really. I said no immediately. I was fairly confident that I didn’t like women by that point, and I was intending to put this moment off as long as possible.” Draco turned towards him as he pulled the covers over his body. They naturally moved closer to on another as they had done so many times before. 

 

“So, you always thought this was where you would end up? A loveless marriage to provide children?” Harry asked, the pain this revelation caused welling deep inside of him. 

 

“Yes,” Draco shifted, moving his weight over Harry. “I was sure that was where my life was headed.” His voice grew steadily softer as his lips moved closer and closer to Harry’s. His body began to rock slowly against Harry, driving him mad with each slow shift of his thigh against hard length. “Then you kissed me at the wedding, and that miserable, bleak future shattered.” Draco’s lips ghosted across Harry’s. “You made me feel like, maybe, there might be another option.” Shivers of anticipation blossomed on Harry’s jaw and neck as Draco breathed raggedly against his throat. “For the first time, I felt like I might actually be able to be happy.” Harry felt a lump form in his throat as Draco’s words washed over him. His hands moved from the sheet, his fingers lingering just above Draco’s skin before he let them fall to his back. “You crashed into me like you always do to everything, with no bloody regard for what is supposed to be, what the proper thing is.” Draco’s tongue trailed down to his shoulder. “You only care about what is right and good.” Draco began to kiss his shoulder and chest lazily as he spoke. “And we are so good and so right, Harry.” 

 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and turned his body until he had the blonde underneath him. He pushed his mouth firmly against Draco’s. He couldn't listen to the whispers of his lover tonight. They hurt more than anything ever had. If they were so good and so right, why were they being torn apart? Why was Draco willing to backpedal to that shell of a life he had thought inevitable? It was as if a knife sliced through his skin as these questions lingered in his mind, so Harry sought refuge in bruising kisses instead. Draco seemed to understand what he needed. He dug his nails into Harry’s back and slid them down the perfect, hot expanse. Harry hissed as his head rocked back, and Draco’s teeth grazed possessively over his neck.

 

Harry supported his body with one elbow on the bed as he clenched Draco’s pants in one hand and pulled them down Draco’s thighs. Draco pushed his body up, trying to make the task easier. When they were at his knees, he used his feet to kick them the rest of the way off his legs. Harry moved his mouth to Draco’s chest, sucking, biting, licking at skin as he moved down to the hardness of Draco’s cock. He took it in his mouth with a familiarity that months of practice had given him. A swirl of his tongue at the head and then down the shaft with a quick, decisive movement. Draco moaned from the pillows, pulling on Harry’s hair. “No,” he said, his tone reluctant even as he told Harry to stop. “I want to be buried in you.” 

 

Harry ignored him for a few more moments, enjoying the feel of Draco’s thighs tense at either side of his head, but eventually he pulled away, returning up Draco’s body to his mouth to kiss him again. Draco tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling it tightly as he bit Harry’s lips and slid his tongue past them. They fought for control, but it was just for show. The moment Harry had taken his mouth from him, he had relinquished the power. 

 

Draco pulled back from Harry. They were both breathing heavily. “On your stomach,” he directed. Harry obeyed, clutching the pillow in his fingers as he lay exposed to Draco. He rocked slowly into the sheets, trying to find some release. Draco moved his leg over Harry, straddling his back. He leaned down to bite at Harry’s neck before his lips moved up to his ear. “So good,” he hissed, his words causing Harry to buck up into him. “So right.” Draco ran his hand down Harry’s side, causing his skin to pimple in anticipation as he pulled Harry’s hips up into the air. “All mine.” He whispered a wandless charm, lubricating his hand as he stroked his own length. Harry felt him position his knees, grounding them on either side of his own. His head easily found its goal as Harry pushed back eagerly towards Draco. Draco clutched Harry’s hip with his free hand, attempting to hold him in place. “Mine,” Draco said again, his tone firm as he buried his length inside of Harry with a long, slow push. 

 

Harry groaned as he turned to kiss Draco desperately. The kiss was wrong, the angle terrible, but they both needed it, needed to feel each other in every way they could. Everything was falling down around them, but this, the way they felt about each other, was still solid. Words seemed to only lead to circular arguments, pulling Harry down into doubt and frustration when he desperately needed to be reassured and comforted. Draco’s fingers on his hips, his teeth pulling at his lip, his cock pushing into him, all served to remind him that he was loved and wanted by this man, no matter what was happening outside the walls of this room. 

 

As Draco continued sliding in and out of him in a perfect rhythm, Harry’s head fell forward against the pillow, the knuckles of one hand turned white as he clenched the edge of the mattress. Draco’s mouth moved to the base of Harry’s neck, kissing him with each thrust. Harry rocked back into Draco, focusing on the sensation of being filled as he began to stroke himself in time with Draco. 

 

He felt Draco’s grip on his hip tighten as his pace quickened and his breath became heavier against Harry’s back. Draco was pulling him back to meet his thrusts now, hard and fast. Harry’s ability to think was slipping away as he moved closer and closer to his release. “Harry.” He heard Draco behind him, his own pleasure clear in his voice. “Fuck, Harry,” Draco moaned his name, drawing out the sound as he came. As Draco’s movements began to slow, one hand slid down Harry’s hip and around his body to replace Harry’s. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Draco’s fingers around him. He had been so close already that Draco had him moaning through his own orgasm in mere moments. 

 

Harry collapsed to the bed, careful to avoid the mess. Draco fell behind him, reaching for his wand to clean the sheets. Harry gave him a few seconds for the spell, and then he was kissing Draco lazily on the chest. He rested his head against Draco’s shoulder as Draco replaced his wand on the bedside table before he pulled Harry closer. Draco fell asleep quickly, but Harry lay there in his arms, listening to the sound of Draco’s heart beating inside of his chest as he tried, and failed, to keep thoughts of the law, the meeting earlier that evening, and his future wife from ruining this moment. 

 

XXX

 

Draco had wanted to be there for support. That was fine. Harry could do this. He could stand there next to Romilda and pretend like he didn’t feel dead inside. He had been a puppet before, surely he could do it again. His eyes moved over the crowd of people, their chatter grated on his nerves and threatened to break through the facade that he was attempting to show to the world. He needed to see Draco, so he kept moving through the faces until he found him. 

 

He was against the wall to Harry’s left, his arms crossed and his lips drawn thin. Harry could see the small signs of his irritation, but he doubted they were obvious to the other people in the room. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Blaise, and Ginny stood in a group around him, all trying to pretend like they wanted to be here. The Marriage Law had hit the papers three days before. The outrage had been instantaneous. It made Harry proud actually, and he had been second guessing his decision to go through with this all day. He wondered if the anger would be enough to convince the Ministry to retract the enforcement of the law, but he couldn’t see why they would change their mind. The population was a problem. Hermione had told him that marriages had already increased. There had been a flood of elopements from people like Ron and Hermione who just hadn’t made the commitment yet, but were afraid of being separated. 

 

Harry’s eyes fell away from Draco as Romilda grabbed his hand, gently pulling him to two chairs that had been set on the platform for them. She smiled brightly, her eyes full of excitement. He wondered again how anyone could be happy about being forced to marry someone they didn’t love. Perhaps, when you did not know what it meant to actually be in love with someone, it was easier to give away the possibility. As they settled into their seats, Kingsley approached the podium. He cleared his throat once as he smoothed his hand down the front of his robes. Harry followed the movement and then took in the man’s blank but authoritative expression as he began to speak. 

 

The words didn’t matter. Harry vaguely knew he was trying to appease the people, explain to them the importance of the law and the severity of the problem they were faced with, but the crowd seemed uneasy, tense, and unreceptive. It lifted Harry’s spirits to see further proof that he wasn’t the only one who felt like the Ministry was overstepping and destroying lives again. He felt another rush of guilt. It began in his chest; a sharp pain that flowed quickly out to his extremities. He was putting his name on this, letting them use him again. He was doing it for Draco. It was all for Draco. Draco wanted children to continue his name. He wanted to make his father happy, and fill his role as the Malfoy heir. This was the only way that he could do that. Harry could have continued to fight it, to let the Ministry deal with the backlash themselves, but then he would have been stuck with Romilda for ten long years and there would have been no help from the Ministry in getting her pregnant with their children. 

 

_ Their children.  _

 

Sometime in the future, Harry simultaneously hoped it was soon and so far away, this woman sitting beside him was going to have his children. He pulled his slick, sweaty hand free from her grasp and slid it down his trousers as he tried to remind himself to breathe. If he didn’t allow them to put him up here on this stage and use him as an example of how the great Harry Potter was doing his part for the Ministry and had been so perfectly matched, they would still force him and Draco to marry without the help and discretion that Kingsley was promising them. The thought of Draco trying to provide the next generation of Malfoys the old fashioned way made him sick. 

 

As he was struggling to control his emotions, there was a murmur from the crowd. At first Harry didn’t know what had caused the sudden excitement, but as he followed their eyes he saw him. Draco was walking up onto the stage, his gait determined as his eyes locked on Harry’s. An auror grabbed for Draco’s arm. Before Harry could even call out to the woman to leave him alone, Draco had brushed her off and continued. She fell quickly in step behind him. Harry could see her mouth moving. He was sure that she was saying something, and he should be able to tell what it was, but he still couldn’t seem to hear anything but the heavy thud of his own heart beating in his ears. 

 

Beside him, Romilda reached for his hand again as she stood. Harry stood as well, sure that had been her intention, but he didn’t move his eyes from Draco. The Minister had stopped talking behind him. Romilda was squeezing his fingers, but Draco was close enough to touch him now. The blonde man reached out two hands. One gripped his neck and the other his hip. Harry watched him lean in, pure shock racing through his body, and then their lips were touching. Harry felt Romilda’s hand slip away from his as the flash of bulbs popping began to blind him even through his closed eyes. Harry wrapped his own arms tightly around Draco, clinging to the man, this man that he loved with everything he was, as they kissed.

 

Draco’s hand slipped up into Harry’s hair as the other found the small of his back and pulled him in even tighter. Harry’s fingers clenched at robes, moving across the hard muscles that he knew so well. He was suddenly lost in the familiar feel of Draco’s lips on his and that same cologne that had consumed him at Ginny and Neville’s wedding. 

 

Slowly, as if he was waking up, Harry began to realize that the people around them were trying to get their attention, and he pulled back. Reporters were shouting as the Minister demanded silence. The bulbs continued to flash, their friends smiled and laughed behind Draco’s head, while questions flew around him so quickly he couldn’t determine which direction they were coming from. “What are you doing?” he asked. His own words were heavy and thick with emotion and disbelief. 

 

“I couldn’t do it,” Draco told him. “I couldn’t let them think you were hers.” Draco leaned in one more time to kiss him quickly at the corner of his mouth. “I love you.” 

 

“I love you,” Harry told him as a smile spread across his lips. It was the first time he had been genuinely happy since that morning before Kingsley had brought the world down on top of him. 

 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, how long has this been going on?” He heard, one of the questions finally shattering through the fog that had begun as soon as he had seen Draco walking towards him. 

 

Draco moved to face the crowd, his arm possessively around Harry’s waist. “Nine months,” he answered. 

 

“What does your family think of this, Draco?” one voice asked. 

 

“Harry, why were you going to marry Ms. Vane?” another shouted. 

 

“The Ministry asked us to give up our own happiness for the good of our community. I thought I could handle this, but I was wrong. It’s true that marriages are down and fewer magical children are being born every year, but I wonder what other options the Ministry considered before resurrecting such an archaic law,” Draco answered again. Harry looked over at him, stunned. “I love Harry, and it would destroy me to watch him married to someone else, attempting to have children, and live a life without me in it.” 

 

“Now, Mr. Malfoy...” Harry heard the Minister’s voice from beside him, but it was cut off by another reporter. 

 

“Minister, were you aware of the relationship between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter? Did you arrange this marriage despite that fact?” Harry watched as Kingsley’s face fell, and he searched for the right words. 

 

“Come on.” Draco turned, pulling Harry with him. 

 

XXX

 

Ten minutes later, Harry shut the door of his home behind him. He turned to face Draco and was immediately pushed back against the wooden frame. Draco’s fingers clenched at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers as he explored Harry’s mouth with his tongue. His hands moved beneath Harry’s shirt to feel the soft heat of his skin against skin. Harry sighed into the kiss as Draco’s fingers dug into his sides. 

 

“You’re mine. Always,” Draco told him, as he moved his mouth down Harry’s jaw until he could suck at the tender skin at the base of his neck. “Romilda Fucking Vane can find her own war hero.” 

 

Harry laughed at this. “What were you thinking?” 

 

“Actually,” Draco pulled back until he could meet Harry’s eyes, “everything went precisely as planned.” The blonde man was smirking, his demeanor suddenly cocky. 

 

“You planned this?” Harry asked, stunned, and then annoyed and angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“You’re a shit liar,” Draco told him with a straight face.  

 

“No, I’m not!” Harry argued, but he knew it was possible that Draco was right. He sometimes wasn’t the best at controlling himself, or his actions, and he was a terrible liar. 

 

“Yes, you are, and we both know it,” Draco insisted. 

 

“But your father …” Harry trailed off, trying not to become suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what Draco was saying. He had planned this, planned outing them both to the world when he had known that their photo would be taken and plastered all over every paper and magazine in Wizarding Britain. He had planned this knowing that his father would find out about them. 

 

“I will admit, this was not Plan A, or even B, but Hermione and I-” 

 

Harry cut him off, “Wait, you were working with Hermione?”

 

“Of course I was,” Draco told him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know these old families and laws better than any of us. I thought we _ might _ find something, but there was nothing. It’s solid. If they want to force this, even now, they will be able to.”

 

“But, you don’t think they will.” Harry said, sure that had been the motive behind all of this conspiracy. 

 

“No. The reaction was already bordering on outrage, and we just added a bit of Fiendfyre to the mix,” Draco’s smirk widened. 

 

“You are evil,” Harry told him, but he couldn’t help feeling happy. “Kingsley is going to get torn apart over this,” he added, not sure how to feel about that. 

 

“I know you like him, but he shouldn’t have gone along with this.” Draco turned away from Harry and began to move through the house. 

 

Harry followed, a frown on his lips. “You  _ asked _ him for a damn match of your own. You practically salivated over Astoria Greengrass.” 

 

“Well, I needed to play my role convincingly.” Draco shrugged as they entered the kitchen. 

 

“Your role? This was our lives! I thought …” Harry lost his steam then, simultaneously ashamed that he had been so sure that Draco wanted to keep him a secret and angry that the other man had guided him to those feelings. 

 

“It’s fine, Harry,” Draco kissed him softly. “I don’t know if I ever would have had the courage to do this if the Ministry hadn’t forced my hand. You are … but I … I couldn’t ever imagine telling him. He … He’s still so broken from the war, and I just thought we could keep on the way we were, but I knew it was killing you. It wasn’t fair.” 

 

Harry leaned against him, holding him for several long moments until the rush of his Floo startled him back from Draco. Hermione climbed through his fireplace a moment later, a broad smile on her face. She leapt at them, her arms outstretched as she squealed in a very un-Hermione fashion. One arm wrapped around either of their necks and she pulled them into a hug. She released them after several squeezes to kiss Draco on the cheek and then hug him tightly again. “You did it!” she finally shouted.

 

“What?” Harry asked, lost. 

 

Ron, who Harry had just noticed behind Hermione, said, “The press decided the two of you are a proper love story. Started destroying the Ministry on the spot.” 

 

“It’s not official, of course,” Hermione told them, trying to compose herself, “but, I’m fairly confident they will be backtracking from this whole thing.” 

 

“What about the marriages and the children?” Harry asked. 

 

“I’m not sure on that either, but I think having a conversation about it was a start. Ron and I knew that Draco had this planned, and we still eloped,” Hermione admitted. 

 

“Realized it was mad not to,” Ron gave them a lopsided grin. “Of course I want her forever.” Hermione shook her head as if Ron was ridiculous, but she was smiling as a blush creeped up her cheeks.

 

“I know several other couples married too, and I suspect other will follow suit, even without the law. It won't be forced, but no one wants our magic to die out. People will start having children again. I think the Ministry were overreacting. They have no faith in the community, and were trying to force us to do something that many of us already plan on doing. Now we just might move up the time table,” Hermione insisted. 

 

“And you were in on this the whole time?” Harry demanded, suddenly remembering that she had been shattered in his kitchen just weeks ago. 

 

“Draco didn’t tell me that he had a back up plan until a week ago,” Hermione told him, her mouth suddenly a tense line as she looked pointedly at Draco. 

 

“I couldn’t have you finding out,” Draco told Harry without a trace of regret on his voice. “You Gryffindors are worse than my mother and her friends. You tell each other everything, as loudly as you can, and at the worst possible moment. It’s a miracle you all survived the war in the first place. I only told her so she could not marry Weasley if she didn't really want to.” 

 

“What?” Ron snapped, his head moving quickly between Hermione, who was still glaring, and Draco, the focus of her anger. 

 

“Draco,” she groaned. 

 

“Well, obviously she married you, mate.” Draco clapped a hand to Ron’s shoulder. “Now you know she really wanted to.”

 

“I knew she really wanted to before.” 

  
“Sure, sure,” Draco nodded in agreement. Harry grabbed his hand, pulling him back. Draco started to pull his hand away, and then stopped, staring down at their entwined fingers. He looked up at Ron and Hermione, and Harry watched him smile in realization that they had nothing left to hide. Everyone knew, or would by the following morning, that they were together. Without warning, Draco closed the gap between them and kissed Harry softly, not bothering to care that their friends were watching. 


End file.
